


Serendipity

by mithrel



Category: Dresden Files (TV)
Genre: Blanket Permission, Blow Jobs, Confessions, First Kiss, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Magical Artifacts, Podfic Welcome, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-12
Updated: 2011-10-12
Packaged: 2017-10-24 13:47:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/264139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrel/pseuds/mithrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mysterious book gives Bob the chance to become corporeal again.  Meanwhile, he and Harry deal with a black sorcerer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Serendipity

“Hey, Bob?”

The voice came from the lab. Bob walked through the wall to find Harry rummaging through the mess in one of the bookshelves.

“Yes, what is it?”

Harry looked over. There was dust in his hair, and he looked annoyed. “Have you seen my Kao-Pe amulet?”

Bob shook his head. “Although with the organization in here, it’s possible to lose several small countries. Don’t you ever clean up?”

Harry scowled at him. “I’ve got a system.”

“Well, apparently the system is ineffective, or else you wouldn’t still be looking.”

“What’s this?” Harry pulled a small book from the recesses of the shelf. It was thick, and bound in yellow leather. There was a black spiral on the cover, bisected by a line. “Have you ever seen this before?”

Bob walked over to where Harry was standing, and inspected the book. “No. It’s not one of Justin’s. Did you buy it?

“Not that I can remember.” Harry opened the book, and began leafing through it. “Seems like a standard spell book…wait a minute!” Harry’s eyes fastened to one of the pages, and he didn’t say anything else for several seconds. Bob started to get worried.

“Harry?” No response. _The book’s cursed; it’s stolen his mind…_ “Harry!”

Harry jumped. “Sorry, Bob, but I can’t believe this…”

“Can’t believe what?”

“Look at this spell, and tell me if I’m hallucinating. You have more experience with this stuff.” Harry put the book on the table.

“Spell to restore a spirit who has been displaced by magical or physical means to its proper vessel or ultimate destination…” He stopped, and looked at Harry. “What exactly were you thinking?”

“That this spell might be the way to make you mortal again.”

Bob shook his head. “Impossible. We don’t know where this book came from, and it would be madness to use a spell from such a suspect source. Even if the spell does what it claims, it might just send me on. Either way, the Council would be furious, since I’m supposed to be condemned for eternity.”

“Would you mind so much, being sent on?”

Bob closed his eyes against a spasm of pain. Yes, yes, he’d mind. Winifred was long dead, whatever sins she had committed had been purged, and he was going to Hell for his crimes, possibly for eternity so there would be no hope of seeing her again. And…he’d be leaving Harry behind… Even if he couldn’t affect the world, even if he could never tell him, even if he were doomed to see Harry grow old and die as everyone else had…No, he couldn’t leave.

“I don’t want to leave.” He refused to look at Harry. “Besides,” he continued quickly, “there’s still the Council…”

Harry shook his head. “No, see, look.” He turned the page. Bob read on.

“As a condition of continued mortality, the spirit must constantly endeavor to expiate any sins committed during its life. Once all sins from the previous life have been atoned for, the spirit must atone for any additional sins committed or the spell will be reversed.”

Harry nodded. “In effect, it forces good behavior. The Council may agree to that, since you were punished for doing things with magic that were forbidden, and you won’t be able to do that if we use this spell, or you’ll be back where you started.”

“But we don’t know where it came from!”

“There’s other spells in this book. We can try some of them, ones that are likely to be harmless, and if they’re accurate, we can assume this one is.”

Bob frowned. “Fine.” All or nothing. Either he’d be mortal again and able to affect the world, able to touch Harry, or he’d lose him forever…

@*@*@*@

They’d tried three spells from the mysterious book. They had all worked as the book said they would: the miscellaneous garbage was gone, there was a new window in the lab, and all the dust had been sucked away

“Well, it looks like the spells do what they’re supposed to.”

“It appears so. But this could be considered a form of raising the dead. The Council…”

“I’ll talk to the Council.”

Bob refrained from pointing out that Harry was not in good odor with the Council, and they were not likely to agree to any request he made, much less this one. He merely nodded.

Harry yawned suddenly. “But not tonight. It’s late. I’ll go tomorrow."

@*@*@*@

Harry had left early the next morning, promising to try his best to persuade the Council to let them try the spell. Bob had sat and stared out the window for over an hour, then retreated to his skull. He didn’t stay in it long, returning to the front room to pace. No clients came in to relieve his anxious waiting, although the phone rang twice.

He hadn’t expected Harry to get a quick answer, but when the sun began to go down, he started worrying. At eleven o’clock he retreated to his skull again. He didn’t need to sleep, so he spent all night waiting.

Harry wasn’t back in the morning, and Bob waited all day, then spent another long night in his skull, wondering if the Council had thrown Harry in prison. At four o’clock on the third day, Harry stumbled in, looking exhausted.

“Are you all right?” Bob asked anxiously, forgetting to be snarky in his worry.

Harry looked up at him and though his eyes were sunken and his face haggard, he managed a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“What happened?”

Harry ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Bob knew he probably only wanted to shower, change, and get some sleep, but he had to know.

“Well, first they had to track down the origin of that book. It’s legit, came from some obscure religious order in the fourteenth century that was dedicated to redeeming damned souls. They called themselves the ‘Brotherhood of the Purifier,’ something like that. Then I had to convince them to let me use the spell, and I think it was only the fact that their punishment would take effect again if you transgressed that made them agree.”

If Bob’s heart had been beating, it would have stopped. “So they did agree?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. Look, let me shower, get changed, have something to eat, then we’ll do it.”

Bob looked more closely at Harry. “Get a few hours of sleep as well. You look like you’ve been awake for days.”

Harry grimaced. “Yeah, I couldn’t sleep. Kept going over my arguments. But you’re sure you want to wait that long?”

Bob nodded. “I’ve waited more than a thousand years; I can wait a few more hours.” Harry grunted acknowledgement, and turned to the bathroom. “And Harry…” Bob hesitated suddenly. “Thank you."

A brilliant smile lit Harry’s features, and Bob swallowed. “No problem, Bob.”

@*@*@*@

Bob went back to his skull while Harry showered, trying not to think of him naked and wet, then tried not to hover as Harry heated up a can of Spaghetti-Os and drank a Coke. Then he went into his room, and, glancing in a few minutes later, Bob found him sprawled on the bed, fully dressed except for his shoes, dead to the world.

Bob let him sleep as long as he could, but at seven, he couldn’t wait anymore. He walked into the room and looked down at Harry’s sleeping face. He looked much more innocent when he was sleeping, more vulnerable, and Bob felt an irrational surge of protectiveness fill him. Harry was perfectly capable of protecting himself…not that Bob could have done anything anyway…he clenched his jaw as the familiar bitterness filled him. But that wasn’t quite true. He had helped and protected Harry before. He’d shown Harry how to make the Doom Box (even if he had been the reason they’d needed it in the first place). He’d discovered that the girl who had been murdered was a lycanthrope, he had protected Matthew from Sarota, he’d tipped off Murphy when Harry had been kidnapped, and he had killed Justin Morningway (sacrificing his mortality in the process). Still, he felt useless so often.

Enough self-pity. It won’t get you anywhere and if this works you’ll be able to help him more, and if it doesn’t you won’t have lost anything but hope. “Unless it sends me on,” he muttered. He looked down at Harry.

“Harry. Wake up.” There was no response. “Harry,” he said, louder. Still nothing. Harry slept on, undisturbed. Bob reached out and touched his shoulder, his hand passing through Harry’s arm. He knew Harry hated it when he did that, but he didn’t know any other way to wake him up.

Harry bolted upright. “Hell’s Bells, Bob, don’t _do_ that!”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s…it’s OK. What time is it?”

“Just after seven.”

Harry blinked, and sat up slowly. He stretched, ran a hand through his hair, then got out of bed. “OK,” he said quietly, “let’s do this.”

@*@*@*@

The spell was extraordinarily complex, with dozens of ingredients, each to be prepared in a specific manner, and added at a specific time. It took nearly two hours of sweaty, painstaking work on Harry’s part, while Bob hovered anxiously in the corner.

Finally, all the ingredients but one had been added. Harry dropped the powdered wormwood into the beaker, stirred three times, quickly, counterclockwise, then said, “It’s ready.”

Bob stepped over to the worktable and stood before the beaker. The spell required that the spirit to be restored say the incantation. Bob took a deep breath and then recited, “ _Atamë oloris yawáh. Atamë oloris mispanë!_ ” There was a puff of smoke from the potion, then silver motes rose from it in a cloud and enveloped him. There was a moment of agony, as if he had been set on fire, then the motes dissipated.

Harry looked at him, wide-eyed, from across the table. “Did it work?”

“Well, _something_ certainly happened. And it didn’t send me on…” He reached out, hesitantly, for Harry’s shoulder, then stopped.

“Go ahead. See if it worked.”

There were dozens of other things he could touch to see if the spell had worked, but he’d wanted to touch Harry for so many years, and had only been able to once. He reached for Harry’s shoulder, and instead of passing through, his hand made contact.

He immediately snatched it away, not only out of shock that the spell had worked, but because a fierce spasm of need had risen in him at the touch.

Harry appeared not to notice, a jubilant grin spreading over his face. “It worked!”

Bob let himself fully realize, for the first time, that he was corporeal. He felt the chill in the lab, smelled the stink where Harry had dripped something onto the burner, and was aware of a pulse for the first time in over a millennium. Oh, he had been corporeal before, briefly, had even felt Harry’s arms around him, but the deception he’d had to practice, and the pain he’d been in had meant he hadn’t been able to enjoy it. Still, he remembered every moment of it, and it had been an excruciating torment since.

Now he was corporeal until further notice, and he resolutely pushed the thoughts of all the problems that would cause into the corner of his mind reserved for things he didn’t want to think about, where most of his thoughts of Harry had been residing for years, although they frequently picked the lock on the door and mugged him when he wasn’t expecting it.

Harry looked at him speculatively. “You hungry?”

Bob was about to say “No,” but he suddenly realized he was ravenous. “I haven’t eaten since the tenth century, what do you think?”

Harry grinned at him. “Well come on, then."

@*@*@*@

Bob sat down at the table while Harry rummaged around in the kitchen. He came out with two chicken salad sandwiches and Cokes. He took one and set the other in front of Bob. Bob looked dubiously at the Coke. Harry grinned at him again. “Give it a try.”

Bob tried the sandwich first. He was completely unprepared for the sensation of tasting something after so long. He closed his eyes in bliss, savoring the textures and flavors of the sandwich, and so didn’t see Harry looking at him with a nakedly hungry look. He put the sandwich down after a moment, and looked at Harry, who had an extremely pleased expression on his face. “Good?”

Bob opened his mouth, then closed it again. He swallowed, and managed, “That’s an understatement. All this…it’s overwhelming.”

Harry nodded. “Well, finish eating, then we can go to bed.”

Bob was sure he paled at those words, but Harry didn’t seem to notice anything unusual. _He didn’t mean that the way it sounded. He was talking about sleeping. Don’t lose your head, you can’t let him know!_

He finished the sandwich, then at Harry’s continued urging tried the Coke. He popped the lid on the can and took a cautious sip. His eyes widened, and he took a longer drink, only stopping when the carbonation began to burn his mouth.

“And another convert is created,” Harry said smugly, as Bob finished the can.

“You can use some of my pajamas,” he continued. “They may be a bit big, but they’ll do.”

Bob paused, thinking of something. “What are we going to do about the sleeping arrangements? There’s only one bed.” _Stupid, I should have thought of that before. This could get awkward._

Harry shrugged. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“What? No, I don’t want to chase you out of your bed.”

“Bob, only one of us can take the bed, and I don’t want you to spend your first night corporeal in over a thousand years on a lumpy, saggy couch guaranteed to give you chronic back problems.”

“Since I haven’t been corporeal in so long I hardly think I’ll notice the difference.”

Harry got that stubborn look about him, his jaw clenched and arms crossed over his chest. Bob wasn’t impressed. Harry had tried that look on him as a teenager when he hadn’t wanted to do his homework. It hadn’t worked, then either. But, Bob reflected, it did make him look utterly adorable.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch, Bob.”

“One of us has to, unless we both use the bed.” _Oh, no. Please, Hecate, don’t let him take me up on that._

Bob almost thought Harry looked uncomfortable for a moment, but whatever it was he’d thought he’d seen was gone so quickly he convinced himself he was imagining things. “Why not? It’s a double.” He paused. “Unless you snore.” He grinned.

“I most certainly do not,” Bob said primly. “I hope you don’t either.” He knew Harry didn’t, but he didn’t want to let on the fact that he’d watched him sleep.

“Nope.”

“Well then,” Bob swallowed, his throat feeling suddenly dry. “There should be no problem.” _Please, goddess, let me be able to control myself._

“Why don’t you get ready while I clean this up?”

Since there wasn’t much Harry needed to do besides rinse the plates and throw away the empty Coke cans, Bob agreed.

He went into the bathroom intending to merely change, but caught sight of the shower and decided to try it. It took him a few minutes to figure out the taps, but he turned on the water and let it run while he undressed. The hot water was working, for the moment, and he ended up standing under the spray, his mind a total blank, until he remembered that Harry needed to use the bathroom. He turned off the water, got out and put on his underclothing and Harry’s nightshirt. It was a bit long, but fit well enough.

Harry was standing outside the door, waiting. “You took a _shower?!_ ”

Bob nodded, unaccountably embarrassed. “I only meant to try it...”

Harry smiled slightly. “Well, don’t worry about it. I’ll just be a minute.”

Bob went into Harry’s room. His _bed_ room. _No, no, don’t think that,_ and lay down on the right side of the bed. He couldn’t help thinking how many women Harry had had in here, but shoved the thought away.

Harry came in wearing only a nightshirt and Bob gritted his teeth. He climbed in on the other side of the bed…not touching him, thank Freya, or he would have done something irreparable. Bob turned over so he was facing away from Harry.

“Goodnight, Bob.”

“Goodnight, Harry.”

Bob was convinced that he wouldn’t be able to sleep, but having a body again had exhausted him, and he soon fell asleep.

@*@*@

He woke again in the middle of the night to find he had rolled over, and Harry was pressed against him. Completely disoriented, he did a quick review of events…the book…the spell…he had a body again and was sleeping in Harry’s bed. And…for some reason Harry was pressed against him.

Bob noticed at about that point that Harry had an erection. _It doesn’t mean anything, don’t jump to conclusions, you were thinking yourself that he’d had a lot of women in here…_ But Harry’s breath on his cheek was extremely distracting and his new body had its own ideas about what it wanted.

He lay there as quietly as he could, trying to decide what to do. He was in a completely untenable situation. He couldn’t move without waking Harry, and that would be impossibly awkward…but if he stayed like this…

Just then Harry took a deep breath and nuzzled him. “Bob…”

Bob jerked in shock…he couldn’t help it. Harry woke up, took one look at him, then his eyes filled with horror, and he fell on the floor. Swearing, he disentangled himself from the blankets and fled.

Bob lay there for a few moments reviewing the events, then got up to look for Harry. He wasn’t in the kitchen or living room, and he wondered if he’d left. But he hadn’t heard the door slam… Then Bob remembered that he hadn’t checked the lab.

He found Harry there, huddled on a stool, shivering in the cold.

“Harry.”

“Go away, Bob.” Harry’s voice was flat, with no emotion in it whatsoever.

“I’m not a ghost anymore, Harry, you can’t command me.”

Harry looked up at him, and the anguish in his eyes broke Bob’s heart. “ _Please_ go away.”

Bob shook his head. “No. We need to talk.”

Harry gave a bark of laughter. “Talk? Talk about what? The fact that I molested you in my sleep?”

Bob rolled his eyes. “Harry, you didn’t do anything. At least come out of the lab. You’ll catch your death in here.”

Harry rose from the stool and shuffled toward the doorway. He went to the living room and flopped down on the couch. Bob sat down in an armchair, close enough to talk, but far enough away to keep Harry, whose eyes were still wild, from running off again.

“Well?” he prodded, when Harry didn’t say anything.

“Well, what?”

Bob sighed. So it would be like that, then. Resigning himself to prying every answer out of Harry one at a time, he said. “Why did you run off?”

Harry gave that same humorless laugh. Bob flinched. “What did you expect me to do, after waking up like that?”

“Harry, you have no control over what you do when you’re asleep.”

“I shouldn’t have let myself get in that situation. I should’ve insisted on sleeping on the couch, no matter how suspicious it made you.”

“How long?”

Harry scrubbed his hand over his face. “Since I was fifteen.”

Bob blinked. “That long? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, let’s see,” Harry said sarcastically. “You’re more than a thousand years older than me, you were my teacher, plus there’s the fact that I’m technically in control of you, you’re male, you don’t have a body, oh, and you’re not interested.”

Bob thought a moment. “All good reasons. But in terms of time I actually lived, I’m not that much older than you.”

Harry looked him up and down. “But…”

Bob snorted. “I lived in the _Middle Ages,_ Harry! Even for the wealthy, life was difficult. As for the rest of it,” he continued, “plenty of wizards took up with their apprentices, at least briefly; as I said earlier, you’re not in control of me anymore; and I have a body now.”

“But…”

“And as far as my being male is concerned, if that really bothers you, then don’t do anything.”

Harry sputtered. “I didn’t, I mean I haven’t, I mean…” he trailed off.

Bob looked at him. “Does it really bother you?”

“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation!”

“Answer the question.”

Harry sighed. “No,” he said quietly. “No, it doesn’t bother me. Not really.”

“Well, then, what’s the problem?”

Harry stared at him, mouth gaping like a stranded fish. “But…you…”

Bob rolled his eyes again. “If I really weren’t interested, do you think I’d even still be here? I have a body, now. I can leave.” Of course, it was the middle of the night, he had no possessions, no place to go, and no money, but he was trying to make a point.

“You mean you…” Harry didn’t seem to understand what Bob was telling him.

“I’m _very_ interested, and if it weren’t for the fact that I didn’t have a body and I was sure you were straight, I would have done something before now. It wasn’t uncommon in my day for males to be in relationships, you know.”

“I…didn’t know.”

“Look, it’s late, you’re tired, I’m tired, we can talk about this in the morning.”

“Uh, yeah, guess so,”

Harry went to the closet and started rummaging around. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for spare blankets.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Harry, there’s no reason for you to sleep out here.”

Harry hesitated, sighed, and followed Bob into the bedroom.

@*@*@*@

When Bob woke up the next morning he found Harry curled up against him. He stretched and Harry pulled away, embarrassed. “Sorry.”

Bob refrained from rolling his eyes with extreme difficulty. “Harry, there’s no need to apologize."

Harry had recently gotten paid a fair amount for a private job. There was no room for another bed, but they ordered another more comfortable couch, to be delivered the next day. Then they went to the drugstore to buy Bob some toiletries, then to a moderately cheap department store.

Bob sniffed when he saw the clothes for sale. “Oh, for goodness sake. There’s nothing here but jeans.”

“That’s not true,” Harry retorted. “Besides,” he continued, “you’d look good in jeans.

“Absolutely not!”

Bob finally bought several long sleeved button-down shirts and slacks. He was only able to buy enough outfits for a week, since Harry’s budget had already been stretched to the breaking point.

Harry acted uncomfortable around him for the next several days, so Bob didn’t push him. Harry slept on the couch, and Bob didn’t object, even though he felt like a heel for kicking Harry out of his bed.

About a week after the spell, Murphy showed up. She hadn’t been around for a few months, and if she was here now it meant the magical world had collided with the mundane, and left it in traction. Harry was in the lab, so Bob answered the door.

“Hello. Is Harry here?” Murphy asked, clearly wondering who this strange man was.

“He’s in the lab. I’ll get him, just wait a moment.”

He went to the lab and rapped on the door. “Harry?”

“Kinda busy here, Bob.”

“Harry, Lieu…there’s someone to see you.” He’d almost slipped up and called Murphy by her name.

“Crap. OK, uh, tell ‘em to wait, I’ll be out as soon as I finish this.”

Bob grunted and walked back to Murphy. “He’ll be out in a few minutes. Can I help you?”

Murphy had been giving him the once-over, and now she said, “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but who are you?”

“Oh! Of course, how rude of me! I’m Bob. I’m Harry’s assistant.” And that had caused a minor fight. Harry had wanted to introduce him as his partner, but Bob had convinced him that people would find it odd enough that he’d hired an assistant on his salary, let alone suddenly acquired a partner out of nowhere. He held out his hand to Murphy, and she shook it.

“Assistant? I didn’t know he had an assistant. He can barely support himself.”

“He only hired me recently,” Bob said, neatly dodging the question.

“Ah. Well, I’m Lieutenant Murphy.”

“Of course, you send a lot of jobs Harry’s way. I’m glad to finally meet you. He’s spoken very highly of you.”

“Yeah, right,” she said wryly. Then, “Are you…” she trailed off.

“A wizard as well? Yes.”

“Oh.” She seemed a bit nervous. She was used to Harry, but he was an unknown quantity. “You weren’t born here.”

So. She was uncomfortable, so was falling back on her instincts as a cop. “I was born in England.” _Not that I can remember back that far…_

She nodded. “Thought so. Why’d you move to Chicago?”

“Work.” Only technically a lie, since he did work for Justin. When he was passed to him, he’d been in America for several centuries, having made the trip with a wizard who thought that the colonies would be a good place to be left in peace to do his research.

“Been in Chicago long?”

“Several decades, yes.”

“Ah.”

“Would you care to do a background check? You won’t find anything.” _Literally._

She flushed. “Uh…no, sorry. I was interrogating you, wasn’t I?”

He smiled. “Don’t worry about it.”

Just then Harry came out of the lab. Bob couldn’t help noticing there were scorch marks on his shirt. “Oh, hey, Murph. Bob, why didn’t you tell me Murphy was here?”

“Well, I didn’t know it was Murphy until just now, or I would have.”

“Ah. Right.” Harry said, remembering that Bob couldn’t give away that he recognized Murphy. “So whatcha got, Murph?”

She shook her head. “Some sort of ritualistic killing. Symbols written on the walls in the victim’s blood, sticks of incense, flowers, stones, I don’t know what all.”

“Hmmm.” Bob said. “That sounds like someone was trying to raise power. Do you mind if I take a look?”

She looked at Harry. He shrugged. She turned back to Bob. “Sure. Come on.”

She drove them to the victim’s house, an apartment in the business district. Despite the circumstances, Bob enjoyed being outside.

When they got there, Bob immediately recognized the taint of black magic in the air. “Vic’s name is Martin Spencer. He’s a manager at a plant that makes Dell computers."

“Yes, well, this was definitely done by black magic,” Bob said.

“It was?”

“Yes. These three symbols in this sequence mean someone was taking the power of someone else’s life and collecting it.” He looked over at the body, which appeared to have been bludgeoned to death. “The more painful the death, the more power is raised.”

Murphy looked impressed. “OK, so someone’s raising power. Who did it?”

Bob shrugged. “No idea.”

“If this is really a black magician raising power, he’ll have killed more than one person. Have there been any other killings similar to this recently?” Harry asked her.

“No. We called you in on this one, but there haven’t been any others.”

“So. There are two possibilities. Either there’s a guy out there raising power, in which case he probably will kill again, and hopefully there will be some kind of pattern, or we’re meant to think this is a power-raiser, when really it’s personal.”

Murphy nodded. “I’ll have Kirmani talk to his coworkers, see if he had a girlfriend, that sort of thing.”

Harry nodded. “Keep us posted.”

When they got home, Harry said, “Stars and stones, I hope it’s personal. That would be a hell of a lot less of a headache than a black sorcerer.”

Bob nodded. “Especially when the Wardens get wind of it.” The High Council could be unmerciful, even sadistic in dispensing its justice, as he well knew, and it seemed only close-minded fanatics had the powers required to be Wardens.

Harry groaned. “Hell’s Bells, I do _not_ want to deal with Morgan. He’s sure to think _I_ did it.” He paused. “Or you, for that matter, despite the fact that doing it would put you back where you started.”

Now Bob groaned. “I hope we can solve this quickly.”

@*@*@*@

Sure enough, the next day Morgan showed up. He barged in unannounced and walked straight up to Harry. “Dresden. There’s been a supernatural killing. I know you did it, I just need to connect it to you.”

“Always nice to see you too, Morgan,” Harry said. “Seriously, doesn’t this ever get old? Don’t you have someone else to harass?”

“You have a record. Naturally, you’re the first one the Council looks at.”

“No,” Harry corrected him, “I’m the _only_ one the Council looks at.”

“What about _him?_ ” Morgan demanded, looking at Bob. “The Council was foolish enough to give him a body again and now he’s…”

Bob cut him off. “First of all _him_ can hear you. And second…” He went to the bookshelf, and got the book of the Brotherhood of the Purifier. “See there? ‘As a condition of continued mortality, the spirit must constantly endeavor to expiate any sins committed during its life. Once all sins from the previous life have been atoned for, the spirit must atone for any additional sins committed or the spell will be reversed.’ Since I still have a body, I couldn’t have done it.”

“Well, maybe not,” Morgan conceded. “But you have no such alibi, Dresden. Your whole family was bad, and you’re the worst of the lot! I’ll be watching you.”

He swept out, and as the door slammed Harry snarled, “Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out. _Stercus,_ I hate that man!”

Bob looked at him. “Please tell me you know more Latin than that.”

“Shut up, Bob.”

He looked up to see Murphy coming up the street. “Please, let her have something.”

As he let her in, he asked, “Anything?”

Murphy sat down on the couch. Harry had been careful to put the blankets away every morning, to avoid giving customers the wrong impression. “No girlfriends. Guy was pretty much a workaholic. But he was on the committee that decided to fire one of the guys who worked on the integrated circuits. He came to work drunk, contaminated the products, insulted people, so they fired him. He made a big stink when he found out, they had to call security to escort him out. According to the people we talked to, he was screaming, ‘You bastards will all be sorry. I’ll make you pay for this.’”

“Sounds like the guy,” Harry said.

“How many other people were on the committee?” Bob asked.

Murphy checked her notes. “Three other people.”

“You got a name for this disgruntled employee?” Harry asked.

“Joel Richardson. Lives in Midtown. We already picked him up, but we got no proof. He’s gonna walk.”

“OK, gimme the names of the other three guys, I’ll see what I can do.”

@*@*@*@>

It was Bob who did most of the work on the protection spell. He ended up with a powder that had to be spread around the doors and windows. They did the best they could, but if they were caught sneaking around people’s houses at night, nothing would keep them out of jail.

It didn't work. One of the other guys was found dead the next day, same MO. They brought Richardson in again, but again had no proof. "This is stupid." Harry growled. "We know he did it, but we can't prove anything, and the other two guys are gonna end up the same way if we don't figure out how to get him!" Harry started putting things together to go up against Richardson himself, and the High Council, Morgan and Chicago P.D. all be damned.

Morgan came by and threatened Harry again. Harry tried to tell him about Richardson, but he didn’t seem to believe him.

The next day the phone rang. “Harry Dresden…Uh-huh…Uh-huh. No, I don’t know what could have caused it. Look, Murph, it’s better you leave this one alone. Yes, I know, but you’d be wasting your time.” Harry looked at Bob and rolled his eyes. “Fine, whatever, but I know I won’t be able to find anything, so I’m not going to take your money. Uh-huh. Bye.”

He hung up the phone and stared at the ceiling, shaking his head. “That woman is such a cop. She doesn’t know when to leave well enough alone.”

“What happened?”

“Richardson was found dead at his apartment. They’re ruling it a suicide, since there’s no signs of a struggle, or of forced entry, but they can’t find anything that caused it.”

“Morgan?”

“Looks like. What do you know, he finally did me a favor.”

@*@*@*@

After that they hit a slump. Bob was going crazy. While they had been working on the case he had had something to keep him busy. Now he had nothing to keep his mind off Harry.

There had been a period, after that first night, that Harry hadn’t touched him at all. Now he seemed more comfortable around him, handing him things, looking over his shoulder while he worked and brushing by him in the hall. But Bob still wasn’t going to push.

He’d done his share of seducing in his day. And even though the culture had changed dramatically, he was sure he could seduce Harry without difficulty. But he wouldn’t. Before he’d met Winifred, sex and love had been two entirely different things. Before her, he’d had plenty of the first, none of the second. With her he’d had both, for all too brief a time. He didn’t want to only have sex with Harry. He’d been careful to make Harry think he was only attracted to him, since he seemed so uncomfortable with it that anything else might end up sending him across the country. But he had no clue how Harry really felt about him, and so he was waiting for him to make the first move. In the meantime, he was brooding.

He was staring out the window when he heard Harry clear his throat. He looked over. Harry shuffled his feet, and refused to look at him. “Uh, Bob…You remember that first night you after we cast the spell?”

“Yes, Harry, I do.”

“Well…about what I said…”

 _He’s going to take it back, say he didn’t mean it._ Bob steeled himself. When Harry said nothing, he prodded, “Well?”

“Did you really mean it?"

“What?”

“Did you mean it when you said you felt the same way?”

“Yes, Harry, I did,” Bob said quietly. _He’s not going to take it back._

“I know I…haven’t done anything.”

“That’s quite all right, Harry. You’ve still been coming to terms with it. Besides,” he added, with a wry smile, “we’ve been busy tracking down black sorcerers and fending off fanatical Wardens. There wasn’t time to do anything."

“Well, now I think I have. Come to terms with it, I mean.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely,” Harry said, meeting his eyes squarely.

“All right.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“What?” Bob was taken aback for a moment, then smiled and said, “Harry, there’s no need to ask.”

Harry leaned in and kissed him, and he was good at it, very good at it, in fact.

When he pulled away, Bob was shaking. He’d got used to having a body again, for the most part, but this…this was a whole other level of corporeality…add that to the fact that he’d never thought Harry would do that, _ever,_ and well…

Harry was looking at him anxiously. “I’m sorry.”

Bob shook off his reaction, and focused on Harry. “Whatever for?”

“You didn’t like it.”

“Harry, I think ‘like’ is rather too weak a term for my reaction.”

Harry looked at him closely, trying to see if he was telling the truth, then smiled.

“Shall we continue this upstairs?” Bob suggested.

Harry hesitated for a fraction of a second, then nodded.

Once they were in the bedroom, Harry kissed him again, unbuttoning his shirt while he was doing it. Bob had his hands under Harry’s shirt, and he pulled away long enough to pull it over his head. Harry fumbled with the buttons, finally pushing the shirt off. As he did, he growled. “You always wear goddamn long sleeves.”

“So?”

“I can’t see your arms. It drives me crazy.” Harry threw the shirt across the room, and ran his hands over Bob’s forearms. He shivered, then pushed Harry onto the bed. Harry toed off his shoes, and got rid of his jeans as Bob discarded his slacks and joined him.

Bob let Harry take the lead, still not wanting to pressure him into anything. Harry kissed him again, then sucked at the hollow of his throat. Bob arched up into him, and before he quite knew what Harry was doing, he had moved down to his waist and taken him into his mouth.

Bob bit back a scream, and tried to keep from thrusting into Harry’s mouth. He couldn’t last long, it was too much. He tried to warn him. “H-harry, I’m…”

Harry pulled back, but started stroking him instead. After a few strokes, Bob came. He actually blacked out for a moment, and when he opened his eyes again he saw Harry looking at him anxiously.

“Bob? You OK?”

“I’m fine, Harry, give me a minute. I haven’t had sex in over a thousand years.”

Harry choked. "Apparently you've recovered enough to make jokes!"

Bob propped himself up on his elbows. Harry was still hard, and he reached down and took hold of him gently. Harry threw his head back and shuddered. Bob reveled in the fact that he was doing this at last, until Harry started bucking against him, and he increased his speed.

“G-god, Bob!”

“Come for me, Harry.”

Harry gasped, began thrusting wildly and came in his hand.

Harry lay back and gave all appearances of falling asleep. Bob went to the bathroom, got a wet cloth, and cleaned himself up, then brought it back and cleaned Harry off.

Harry appeared to be asleep, so Bob climbed into bed and curled up next to him. As he felt sleep claiming him he whispered, “I love you.”

Harry stirred against him, and Bob froze. “What?”

 _Sweet Lares, he heard that._ “Nothing.”

Harry rolled over and stared at him accusingly. “It is not. You said you loved me.”

Well, it’s out now, for all that I didn’t want him to know. “I do.”

“Why didn’t you _tell_ me?!”

“You were so uncomfortable with the fact that I was even attracted to you that I didn’t want to dump anything else on you.”

“How long have you loved me?”

Bob hesitated, then, resigned, said, “Since right before you went to Europe.”

“That long?”

Since this was obviously a rhetorical question, Bob didn’t answer.

“I wish you’d told me.” There was something in Harry’s voice that Bob couldn’t quite define.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“It wouldn’t have. I-I mean, yes, it would have, but only because I was in denial.”

“In denial of what?” Bob asked suspiciously.

Harry took a deep breath and blew it out quickly, then looked at Bob. “I love you too.”

And the look in his eyes made Bob believe him.


End file.
